Definitely a Frog -- not a Prince

<>I only did it because I know he won’t call. And for the record I don’t want him to call. Because I don’t think I’d have anything to say, or if I’d even be able to look him straight in the eye. <>Sure, things worked out perfectly yesterday night. It started with a little innocent flirting. Then it progressed to innocent dancing, singing along with the band, tapping beer on the table and dancing in unison with arms around each other.

<>The problem comes next: the band starts playing their rendition of Blue Rodeo’s Lost Together. Granted that we’ve been singing, flirting and drinking together for the better part of the past hour, we’re dancing close now. Eyes locked, sharing a moment. The beer he bought me is on the table being watched by my friend. His arms are around my hips, but he knows better than to let his hands wander. One look earlier told him that was not cool. And the look I got from him in return was a look of “I’m sorry, I won’t let it happen again”. He looks me in the eye and asks if he is allowed to kiss me. I thought briefly, or didn’t, and smiled at him. He didn’t wait much more than a split second.

<>And at the end of the song, we both split. No strings. A little while later we meet up again and follow the same pattern as before. More flirting, more beer, more dancing, and yes, even a little bit more kissing.

<>The band wraps it up, the bar is closing down. I know he’s leaving town tomorrow. And that’s why I feel fine about all this. I knew this from the beginning. I always have a thing for the out –of-towners. I’ll be some story he tells his buddies. I’ll never meet his buddies. And it’s very unlikely I will ever run into him again. I hope. It happens at the bar and it stays at the bar. I’d never bring him home with me, and I’d certainly never follow him back to his hotel room.

<>He invites me to the Dome but I decline the invitation. I’ve gotta get home, and at this point, I’ve already had too much to drink. My number? Sure…. Hey, we never even really introduced ourselves. Names exchanged with a handshake. It all seems a little too formal now. I give him my number. Only because I know he won’t call.

One last kiss, one last hug, and we’re out of there. It’s been a long time since I made out with a random stranger in a bar. The thought of my peculiar behavior still makes me laugh and blush. But once in a while, a girl really does just need to have some fun. But it always stops when the band stops playing. It happens at the bar and it stays at the bar. Because at the end of the night, I always go home alone.